


Helter Skelter: A Day In The Life

by Charlatron



Series: The Smutty Adventures of Olivia Trevelyan [5]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Avvar Cullen Rutherford, Avvar Wedding, Body Paint, Cullen Rutherford Smut, F/M, Mating Rituals, Possessive Cullen Rutherford, Protective Cullen Rutherford, Shameless Smut, and a bit of fluff for good measure, family wedding, ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:28:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24430594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Charlatron/pseuds/Charlatron
Summary: Cullen and Olivia have an unforgettable experience at her cousin's Avvar wedding.AKA: the usual smut with 100% more body paint.With beautiful art from @lethendralis-paints
Relationships: Cullen Rutherford/Female Trevelyan, Female Inquisitor/Cullen Rutherford
Series: The Smutty Adventures of Olivia Trevelyan [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1621369
Comments: 8
Kudos: 48





	Helter Skelter: A Day In The Life

**Author's Note:**

> This trip is briefly referenced in the final chapter of Helter Skelter. It'll make more sense if you've read the main story, though isn't absolutely essential if you're just after a bit of Avvar!Cullen smut.
> 
> Endless thanks to my Smut Coven sister @kemvee for helping me to polish this off. If you like Cullen I highly recommend you go read her works, especially the Courtesan au "Educating The Commander" that she's currently working on! It's going to be delicious.

To say the events of the last few days had been tiresome was an understatement. Olivia was utterly exhausted when she finally arrived back at the Inquisition's main camp. What with all the travelling; dangerous wildlife; super-strength demons; hostile Avvar; _Inquisitor-fucking-Ameridan_ and of course a possessed dragon.

“Oh, please tell me that's for me,” she desperately whined, shuffling into Cullen's cabin as he was upending a final bucket of hot water into the round wooden bathtub.

He hummed in amusement before turning to look at her. “I thought you'd appreciate – _sweet Maker!_ ” he broke off upon seeing her bloodied and beaten visage.

“I look worse than I feel,” she assured him, “I think.”

“How bad are your injuries?” He began fussing over her at once, helping her out of her tattered clothes to examine the array of bruises in various stages of development on her body.

“I'll survive.” She sighed, too tired even to be irritated by his mothering.

“Come on.” He guided her to the steaming tub and held her hands as she stepped into it.

She let out a long, satisfied sigh as she sank down into the blessedly hot water, quickly washing and rinsing her hair, then lay completely still as Cullen worked through missives and reports until the water turned tepid and her fingertips pruned.

She clocked him staring as she stood and stepped out of the tub, shamelessly ogling her as she towel-dried her hair. She made a show of it, giving him a generous view before finally wrapping herself in a towel.

“This was delivered by an Avvar scout while you were away,” he said, clearing his throat, “it's addressed to you personally.”

She sauntered over to him, taking the letter from his hand and sitting on his lap. She examined the wax seal, recognising the crest almost immediately. “It's from my uncle's clan.”

Cullen wrapped one arm around her back to support her, resting his hand on her hip. “I thought your mother's family were Anderfell nobility?”

“Well, someone's been doing his research.” Clearly he knew her father was an only child. “Been reading up on the Dietrich's, have we?”

“I wanted to know more about your mother's side of the family.” His free hand slid up her outer thigh as he hungrily regarded her décolletage.

“Why didn't you just ask me?”

“Could I though?” he questioned sceptically.

She rolled her eyes at herself. “Okay, so I haven't always been overly forthcoming with the personal details, but I'd like to think we're past that now.”

“Are you going to open it, then?” he impatiently questioned, pressing his face into the crook of her neck to inhale her violet scent.

She eagerly tore through the seal, her smile slowly widening as she read the contents of the letter – and because Cullen's tongue was laving the sensitive tendon in her neck. “My cousin Astrid is getting married. It's an invitation to her wedding.”

“When?” he asked between the soft kisses he was now pressing to her neck, fingers digging a little eagerly into her hip and upper thigh.

“Tomorrow, actually.” She sighed. “Think we could delay our return to Skyhold?”

Cullen hummed thoughtfully. “I'm sure I could hold down the fort here a while longer.”

“Or... you could come with me,” she immediately suggested, honestly a little surprised he wouldn't think she'd want him to go with her.

He smiled, coyly. “I didn't want to assume.”

“We're a couple, aren't we?” She shrugged. “I'm given to understand it's expected to take one's significant other to such events.”

He stared up at her, something akin to wonderment in his bright eyes. “You've changed.”

“No I haven't,” she bashfully protested.

“Yes, you have,” he insisted, “if I'd suggested I accompany you to a family wedding just a few months ago you'd have laughed in my face.”

It was hard to believe that just this time last year she would have found the very idea of taking a _date_ to a wedding abhorrent. She'd always assumed her father would eventually force her to marry, but after her mother's death she'd closed herself off to the notion of love. For so long she'd convinced herself that nobody could ever be trusted with her affections, but the undeniable contentedness this brave man instilled in her with just a look, made her realise it was she who never thought herself worthy of another. She still didn't have all the answers but, in the meantime, she was willing to afford their relationship the gravity it deserved.

“I really can't argue with that.”

He tilted his head, lips questing for a kiss which she met with unabashed enthusiasm. He released his grip on her thigh, walking his fingers up her torso to the top of her towel and opened it up with one rough _tug_. He grasped a breast, guiding the taut nipple into his mouth as she squirmed in his lap in a futile search for friction. His hand on her hip slid up her back to grasp the nape of her neck, forcing her towards him as he released her nipple in favour of her tongue. He loosened his grip on her breast, brushing the tips of his fingers along the silken skin of her stomach towards the apex of her thighs.

Cullen's low hum of approval as his fingers discovered her slick only served to make her that much wetter. She sighed into his mouth as he slowly worked two digits inside her, stimulating her clit with the heel of his palm as his fingers lay frustratingly still within. She grumbled impatiently, but before she could voice her annoyance he was on his feet and carrying her to bed. 

He dropped her, a little rough in his eagerness, then speedily divested himself of his clothes. Thankfully he’d already removed his armour prior to her arrival. She impatiently reached for him and, when he finally knelt between her legs, pulled him down heavily on top of her to relish his almost crushing weight.

“Eager, are we?” He smirked, kissing a path along her jawline to her throat.

“I have been fighting almost non-stop for days,” she reasoned, “yes, I'm fucking eager. Now put your cock inside me before I self-combust!”

He snorted in an attempt to withhold his chuckle. “Well, how could I refuse such poetry?” 

“Rutherford, if you say one more word -”

“I love you.”

She blinked. “... that's not fair.”

“All's fair in love and war,” he cockily retorted, smirking that bloody irresistible grin of his.

“Lucky, that. Because I'm about to start a war if you don't hurry up and _fuck m-_ " Her breath left her in a rush as he fluidly hilted himself, unashamedly moaning in approval as the corded muscles of his back tensed and flexed beneath her fingertips.

Legs spread wide to accommodate his bulk, she ground herself against him each time he buried himself deep, dragging her fingers through his hair as he kissed her breathless. Missionary may have had its reputation as being one of the more vanilla positions in the bedroom, but there was no denying the appeal of being pinned beneath this magnificent beast of a man, watching as his very being was reduced to the singular task of bringing her pleasure.

But exhausted and exceedingly horny as she was, it didn't take very long for her to finish - and Cullen being the perfect gentleman he was, began to withdraw, content to let her rest.

“What are you doing?” she protested when he attempted to remove himself from her embrace.

“You need to rest,” he whispered, hard cock partially housed within her still fluttering walls.

“Do you think me a selfish lover?” she testily questioned.

“O-of course not,” he stuttered, “but -”

“Then do as I say and fuck me!” 

Cullen growled at her command, he didn’t need telling twice, immediately snapping his hips with wild abandon. The rickety cot protested harshly beneath them, one end banging frantically against the wall as the feet scraped back and forth along the wooden floor. She wasn't expecting to climax a second time when he came within her, the magnitude of it hitting with such force that she barely registered the cot legs breaking off and the base crashing to the floor.

Laughing heartily as he lowered his forehead to hers, he asked, “are you all right?” ever the concerned lover.

“Better than all right.” She chuckled. “You literally just fucked me into the ground.”

He rolled on to his side, pulling her with him so they lay face to face. “I blame that filthy mouth of yours.”

She scooted on to her side, giving him a bit more space to get comfortable. He lifted a hand to tuck a strand of damp hair behind her ear, fingers lingering on her jaw as he gazed warmly at her face. It was crazy to her, this effortless ability he seemed to possess of making her feel quite so desired. She gave him a small but genuine smile, running her fingers along his side and inadvertently making him squirm when she discovered a ticklish spot. He grabbed her hand when she refused to let up, pulling it between them to kiss her knuckles.

As she studied his face, watching him slowly blinking until his eyes failed to open again, she finally recognised Cullen for what he truly was: strength incarnate. Not only did he possess an inordinate amount of physical strength; his body being a finely tuned weapon of mass destruction - also capable of making the earth move, figuratively speaking - but he had also developed a mental fortitude which rivalled even her own. The horrors he'd endured, the losses he'd suffered, the addiction he battled with on a daily basis... he almost made it look easy. 

Cullen had always been so understanding of her personal issues, patient when patience was required, pushy when she needed a shove, provider of carnal delights whenever she needed an escape. She struggled to swallow the sudden lump of guilt in her throat as she realised she hadn't been nearly enough of a crutch for him as he had for her.

“Cullen,” she all but whispered.

“Hmm?” he tiredly hummed, already half asleep.

She smiled to herself, pressing a kiss to his chest as she snuggled into his embrace. “Nothing,” she whispered, allowing the sound of his soft breaths to lull her to sleep.

* * *

“So, your uncle is Thane?” Cullen asked as they cantered side by side up the mountain pass.

They'd already discussed her family at length earlier that morning, though admittedly she'd been stroking his cock at the time so unsurprisingly a lot of information hadn't been fully retained.

“Yes,” she confirmed, “he married the previous Thane's daughter and eventually earned the title himself.”

“And you have how many cousins?”

“Four – all girls. Thora's the oldest, the twins Clara and Heidi came next and Astrid's the youngest.”

“And you were last here when?” he asked, running a distracted hand through his hair, the brisk mountain breeze having ruffled his curls somewhat.

She ground her teeth together, breathing through flared nostrils as she bit back the annoyed retort on the tip of her tongue. “The summer before my mother died," she repeated with a forced smile. 

“I’m sorry,” he was quick to apologise, realising he already had the answers to all of these questions, “I’m just a bit nervous, is all.”

“Of what?” She laughed.

“I feel like I'm meeting your father for the first time – I mean I know I've already met your father, but you didn't exactly speak very highly of him. Is it silly that I want your uncle's approval?”

“You'll have it.” She smiled sincerely. “Listen, he may look like a big scary mountain man but he's really just a big teddy bear.”

“Yes, I'm sure that's how a former _lowlander_ was deemed worthy of becoming _Thane._ ”

“Speaking of...” She sped up as the unmistakable silhouette of her uncle waiting to greet them came into view, dismounting in a hurry and rushing towards him. "Uncle Wolfgang!"

"I'd recognise those freckles anywhere." He bellowed, holding out his arms to pull her into a fatherly embrace.

It had been so very long since she’d seen him, too long in fact. Just the smell of him made her feel like that same care-free teenager she’d been the last time she was here, safe and loved.

"You haven't aged a day." She marvelled once he'd released her, his dark bushy beard as wild as ever.

“The mountain air does wonders for the soul.” He smiled broadly before turning his attention to Cullen.

“Uncle, this is Cullen - Commander Cullen,” she quickly corrected, “he's...”

“The man who intends to marry her someday,” Cullen confidently finished for her, extending an arm in greeting.

She tried to ignore the knee jerk anxiety she felt at such a statement, though her burning cheeks likely gave away her difficult-to-shake discomfort on the subject.

“Is that so?” Her uncle clasped Cullen's offered forearm, curiously staring him down as he gripped him a little tighter than was absolutely necessary. “You have some Avvar in you?”

“Not... that I'm aware.” Cullen glanced at her unsurely.

“Cullen, this is my uncle: Thane Wolfgang,“ she quickly resumed the introductions, smiling as another woman approached, “and this is his wife, Ylva.”

“Look at you.” Ylva cupped her cheeks before pulling her into a fierce hug. “You’re all grown up and just as beautiful as your mother.”

“Come!” her uncle barked, “break bread with us.”

_Fire-Drake Hold._ It felt like an age had passed since she’d last visited, and despite things obviously having been upgraded during her long absence she still felt as though she could navigate the place with relative ease.

"How are my cousins?" Olivia asked as they strolled toward the feast hall.

"Reproducing at an alarming rate.” Her uncle chuckled. “We're expecting grandchild number six next month if you can believe it."

“Well, I guess there isn’t really much else to do in the mountains,” she japed.

“You know that isn’t true.” Her uncle held open the door for them all to enter. “Or have you forgotten all of your time spent with us already?”

“Never,” she spoke with conviction, “those are some of my fondest memories.”

His once cheery grin disappeared, giving way to a look of melancholy. “I wish you hadn’t stopped visiting. The boys were heartbroken for at least three summers,” he added as an afterthought, clearly trying to lighten the mood.

“Only three?” she scoffed, accepting the gesture for what it was.

As they sat and helped themselves to the simple fare on offer, she could practically feel Cullen's curiosity radiating from him. “Ask away,” she whispered, offering him an encouraging smile.

“Well, no offence but I’m having a hard time picturing you here as a young _Lady,_ making memories that you now refer to as ‘fond’.”

“Offence taken,” she playfully retorted, “you assume I was too pampered to appreciate this way of life?”

"Don't let that polished exterior fool you, son,” her uncle interjected, “she'd arrive a spoiled princess and leave more feral than the rest of us."

“I have to ask, uncle. How did you even know I was in the basin?”

Wolfgang looked uneasy for just the briefest of moments. “Thora.” He smiled proudly. “She... has the gift.”

Cullen’s grip on her thigh beneath the table tightened, giving her a reassuring squeeze.

“Is she, um...” _Insane?_

“She's perfectly well.” Clearly her uncle knew what she was getting at.

“We should get moving, love,” Ylva spoke up beside him.

“Lady of the skies, is it that time already?"

“Why don’t I show you where you’ll be staying and then you can go find Thora,” Ylva suggested, “I know she was looking forward to catching up with you.”

* * *

Deciding to take a short reprieve after the food Olivia strolled along the sloping walkway, memories from a more innocent time making her footsteps feel lighter then they had in ages.

“ _Bjorn!_ ” She startled, having pulled her gaze away from the scenery to actually look where she was going. Not a moment before she almost collided with a bear of a man.

“Olivia?” He breathed in wonder, reaching out to run his fingers through her hair, as though he didn't truly believe she was standing before him.

“You've, um... grown.” Grown was an understatement. He was built like a fucking qunari!

She gently pushed his hand away from her face, feeling extremely uncomfortable with the contact - even more so when the events of her last visit suddenly came rushing back with perfect clarity. How could she have forgotten! 

The first time they met she was fifteen and fearless and had never found another person quite so attractive as he. He was tall, broad, dark and handsome, and he followed her around like a love-sick puppy. He was an apprentice hunter at the time, sent from another clan just a few months before her visit, and although only seventeen he was very much a man. Young as she was, and still very much a virgin, their relationship never went any further than a few kisses and late-night conversations… mostly about how they’d marry just as soon as she became of age. But then her mother became unwell and she never returned to keep her promise. Surely he didn’t intend to hold her to it.

“You're here for the wedding,” he thankfully realised, his epically-dark-brown eyes unblinking in their intensity.

“Yes. I was, um, in the area.” His unrelenting gaze was beginning to make her sweat.

“Bjorn! Shift your arse!” A faraway voice called up to him.

“You're a decade late, lowlander, but it looks as though you and I may get to live out that fantasy of ours after all.” He smirked as he began backing away.

“Oh, no, that's not -” she tried to explain that her reasons for being there had nothing to do with him, certainly not to enact some childhood fantasy of theirs, but he was gone before she could get the words out. “ _Oh, bloody void!_ ”

She pushed her childhood sweetheart to the back of her mind and resumed her short hike up toward the chalet her aunt had pointed out. She had been looking forward to seeing Thora, but after hearing she'd been afflicted with the same curse as her mother she was also now a little apprehensive.

She and Thora had been joined at the hip when they were younger. Her cousin was a couple of years older but the two of them just always seemed to have a stronger connection than the others. They could have passed for siblings themselves they looked so alike, though Thora was blonde and a few inches taller. Her cousin had come into her magic when she was ten and had always insisted she'd be the clans' Auger someday.

“Thora?” Olivia knocked three times then let herself in.

“Hello, Olivia.” Her cousin was sat cross-legged on the floor, looking as though she were in the middle of some sort of ritual.

“They make you Auger yet?”

Thora chuckled. “Soon.”

She remained silent as she watched her cousin finish whatever Avvar practice she was performing, smoke wafting from a burning stick of smudging herbs as she whispered words of prayer until she stood and began clearing her things away.

“What was that?” Olivia asked, curiosity getting the better of her.

“I prayed to Rilla of the Fireside for a fruitful night.”

“That better not rub off on me,” she warned in jest.

Thora's brow creased as she looked at her for a moment before her lips drew up into a genuine smile and she crossed the room to assault her with a bone-crushing hug.

“It's good to see you, too.” Olivia laughed. “I'm told you were expecting me.”

“Yes. And I'm sorry we didn't offer you aid against the Jaws of Hakkon... but I knew you wouldn't need it.”

“We did alright.” She shrugged as though it were no big deal, picking nervously at her fingernails as she prepared to address the elephant in the room. “So, you're like her then?”

“I share our family's gift, yes.”

“Did it...“ Olivia swallowed nervously. “Did it start when you were pregnant, too?”

“The very same night I conceived.” Thora nodded in affirmation. “Though it took me a few weeks to realise what was happening.”

“Are you worried it'll drive you mad?” Her question was blunt, but she really didn’t know how else to phrase it.

“No,” Thora easily replied, “what happened to your mother isn't going to happen to me.”

“But how can you possibly know that?” Olivia turned away from her cousin, occupying her nervous hands by rummaging through the various stacks of dried herbs on the shelves.

“Your mother was mentally unstable, Olivia. Her gift may not have helped the situation, but it wasn't the cause of her illness.”

“You sound certain of that.” She lifted a stick of dried sage to her nose, sampling its scent in a bid to stop her eyes from watering.

“It won't happen to you either, cousin.” Thora placed a hand on her shoulder, turning her around to look her in the eye. “Of this, too, I’m certain.”

“Well, I don’t ever plan on having children so it’s all academic at this point anyway,” she spoke matter-of-factly.

Thora stared motionless for a few tense heartbeats before pulling her into another intense hug.

“What was that for?” She laughed when she was eventually released by the burly woman.

Her cousin smiled, a little sadly. “I've just missed you, is all.”

Olivia gave a half-smile in return and lightly nudged her shoulder. “Missed you, too.”

“Excited to finally be participating in an Avvar wedding?” Thora swiftly changed the subject, suggestively waggling her eyebrows.

“Whatever do you mean?” Olivia pursed her lips, acting rather unconvincing.

“Come now, don't be coy. You've been obsessed with these ceremonies since we were old enough to sneak out and spy on them.”

“Yeah, alright, I am pretty excited,” she admitted, a huge grin on her face.

“Come on then, we should join the others and get started. A word of caution, though: Bjorn.”

“ _Oh, fuck me._ ” She whined. ”You don’t seriously think he’s going to try anything, do you?”

“I know for a fact he will,” Thora deadpanned, “he's been waiting over a decade for you to return. Do you have any idea how many times my father has had to dissuade him from searching the lowlands for you?”

“No, no, no...” She covered her face with her hands. “Have you seen the size of him! It’s like he never stopped growing! If he tries to cart me off, I won't stand a chance.”

Thora tapped her chin, imitating contemplation. “Might there be another man willing to fight for you?”

“What, Cullen?” Her eyebrows shot up her face an inch. “I don’t think he’d be comfortable with – although...”

“Leave it to me, cousin.” Thora flashed her a conspiratorial grin, then dropped her off at the bridal hut and disappeared to carry out whatever diabolical plan she'd concocted.

* * *

“Cullen?”

“Yes.” He turned towards the source of the oddly familiar cadence, half expecting to find Olivia imitating a highlander accent, but in actual fact, it was her cousin – or so he assumed from the striking resemblance. 

“I'm Thora.” She smiled. “Olivia's favourite cousin.”

He extended his arm in greeting, which she clasped with a strength he was not expecting. “A pleasure to meet you, Thora.”

She didn't release him right away, staring at him in a way that made him feel as though he were being thoroughly sized up.

“She's quite smitten with you, isn't she," she eventually spoke, finally releasing her grip on his arm.

Suddenly flustered by her observation, he rubbed nervously at the back of his neck. “Oh, I don't know about that.”

“She is,” Thora spoke matter-of-factly, “she needs you, Cullen. Don't ever believe her if she tells you otherwise. She's her own worst enemy that one.”

_Easier said than done,_ he thought, though he already knew as much. “Duly noted.”

“Alright then.” She flashed him a dazzling smile then clapped her hands together. “Why don't you let me prepare you for the celebration? I'll make you look like a real Avvar - you certainly have the build for it.”

“Oh, that's not necessary," he politely declined, “I'm fine as I am.”

“I'm afraid it isn't optional,” she replied in a tone that left no room for discussion, ”don't worry, Olivia's being prepared as well.”

He sighed in defeat, knowing that if Thora was even a fraction as tenacious as her cousin, arguing was futile. “Where do you want me?”

“Take everything off and put these on.” Thora handed him a pair of thick fleece-lined trousers and what appeared to be a decorative leather mantle trimmed with fur.

“I seem to be missing a shirt,” he naively pointed out.

“Avvar don't wear shirts to such occasions, silly.” She chuckled before turning serious again. “But don't worry, I'll be painting you.”

“Oh, good,” he responded a tad sarcastically, practically able to feel his cheeks turning pink.

He felt ridiculous, and it didn't help that the Avvar apparently didn't subscribe to mirrors. He was certain Olivia would find the spectacle quite hilarious, though her cousin did say she was also being made to look the part.

“I should tell you,” Thora began in the same conspiring tone he'd heard Olivia use so many times before, immediately setting him on edge, “we have a bit of a tradition at these events – specifically involving those not yet wed.”

She was looking at him as one might regard a canvas, thankfully without a hint of attraction as she studiously painted his top half.

“With Rilla of the Fireside already present to bless the union, it's supposedly the perfect time for new and existing bonds to be solidified.”

“Why do I get the feeling I'm being led into a trap?” he grumbled.

“You're observant.” She noted with a wink. “Allow me to elaborate: Avvar men don't _ask_ for their bride's hand in marriage... they take it.”

“Well, who doesn't love a bit of dubious consent with their nuptials?”

She snorted. “It's not like that. Look, Avvar women appreciate a powerful man. And while yes, sometimes the men attempting to woo us wouldn't be our first choice, if they're actually able to successfully claim us... it can make them a far more appealing prospect.”

“This is something you've experienced yourself?” he asked, genuinely curious.

“Actually, I was captured by the son of another Thane. It was all very... _exciting_.” She shuddered at whatever memory she was recalling.

“You're serious?” He was appalled by the barbarism of it. How many poor women had been carted off by men they had no interest in and forced into loveless marriages.

“It's tradition,” she reasoned, “I know it seems terribly misogynistic, but it really is the only time we allow our men to believe they have any control over anything. And even if they do manage to get us into their beds against our will -”

“I'm sorry, you're captured and _assaulted_?” he exclaimed, so far beyond horrified.

“ _Even if they do,_ ” she sternly continued, “they wouldn't touch us further without our express consent – not that many women refuse, I can tell you. Such displays do work wonders on one's arousal.” 

The far-away dreamy expression on her face was evidence enough that she, at the very least, she believed the things she was saying.

“Why are you telling me this?” he asked, mostly to interrupt whatever memories were making her breathe quite so deeply.

She shook her head, freeing her mind from whatever inappropriate thoughts had taken root. “I, uh, thought maybe you could partake... with our Olivia.”

“You want me to _claim_ her?” He grunted. “Have you met your cousin?”

“If you don't, I know at least one other person who will,” she tactfully goaded.

“Then I feel sorry for whoever this person is.”

Thora slammed the paintbrush in her hand down onto the table. “Cullen, do you honestly believe that Olivia could fend off a burly six-foot-seven mountain man?”

“Pardon?”

“You let another man carry her off and you can kiss goodbye to any hope of gaining my father's approval. You're going to have to step in, so keep your eye on her. Understand?”

“Yes,” he obediently responded, noticing for the first time just how defined the woman’s biceps were.

“Okay. We're all done here.” She appraised her work. “I'm sure Olivia will be back soon if you just want to wait here for her.”

* * *

Olivia pressed her lips between her teeth, trying her best to stifle her laughter.

“Olivia, you look constipated,” Heidi, her heavily-pregnant cousin, criticised.

“It tickles!” she argued, snorting when the paintbrush swept over her nipple again.

“How do you think your lowlander-warrior will react to you like this?” Heidi probed with a nudge and a wink.

“I don't know.” She grimaced. “I just hope he doesn't get all prudish and insist I cover-up.” Although, the idea of a jealous, possessive Cullen did hold a certain appeal.

“Your man and I just had a lovely conversation,” Thora announced as she entered the bridal hut, immediately joining Clara who was studiously preparing the bride. “I think you're going to be _very_ pleased with the outcome.”

“Finished!” Heida proudly declared. 

Suddenly desperate to find out exactly what Thora was talking about, she rose from her seat, hollered a half-hearted thanks to Heidi then disappeared before anyone could say another word.

She raced back down the hill to her cabin, reaching it within a few short minutes. Worked up as she was she took a moment to compose herself, taking a few deep calming breaths. In a just world, Cullen would be on the other side of the door looking as Avvar as she. However this was Cullen, and though her body trembled with excitement she mentally prepared herself for disappointment. 

With a shaky hand, she opened the door slowly to peer inside. He stood from his seat at the sound of her entrance… and it took every ounce of restraint she possessed not to squeal with delight. The leathers, the furs, the way the paint emphasized each rise and dip of his sculpted chest. She gaped at him as though beholding a living god, pressing a hand to her chest for fear her thundering heart might burst free. “You look...” words failed her, all she could manage was an approving hand gesture.

“Really?” He scrunched his nose in distaste. “Because I feel ridiculous.”

“Cullen, if my cousin wasn't about to get married you and I would not be leaving this cabin any time soon.”

He raised an intrigued eyebrow, arousal rapidly smothering his discomfort. “You like this?” he seduced, prowling towards her until he was just beyond her reach.

“Like it?” She loudly swallowed. “I'm halfway towards achieving orgasm just from looking at you.”

“Speaking of.” He hooked a finger beneath the waistband of her loincloth, tugging her closer. “Just how do you expect me to look at you like this without my trousers tenting?”

Now would be an ideal time to tell him to avoid the fermented rams milk, potent aphrodisiac that it supposedly was... but where would be the fun in that? 

“Ah, ah.” She knocked his hand away when he attempted to touch her. “You’ll ruin the paint job.”

“Cruel.” He grumbled as she took him by the hand, giving her arse a cheeky tap just before they stepped outside and headed up to the ceremony site.

* * *

“She has a beautiful voice,” Cullen noted as Astrid, the bride, serenaded the clan.

Olivia smiled in agreement, lacing their fingers together in a rare display of public affection. “She sounds just like my mother.”

She could feel his eyes on her face, no doubt ensuring he hadn't inadvertently upset her by evoking memories passed. She turned to him and pressed a kiss to the back of his hand, showing him she was fine.

“What purpose does this serve, exactly?” Cullen whispered as the song continued.

“The groom has to untie as many knots on that rope as he can before the bride finishes her hymn. The more he manages the longer their marriage is said to last.”

They watched the rest of the ceremony in silence, raucously cheering when the song eventually came to an end. Olivia's uncle then gave a very moving speech, pleased with the grooms unknotting success, before finally directing everybody to the feast hall.

The food was a hearty fare of game and fish, neither of which she was particularly fond of. Olivia had never really thought of food as something to enjoy, but rather a requirement of life. She was however very much looking forward to the homebrew. She'd been allowed a taste as a youngster but had yet to get completely wasted on the stuff. Sadly, the smell of roast boar was making her feel a tad queasy so she decided it best to stick with water, at least for the time being.

“Which one is he?” Cullen whispered beside her.

“Pardon?” she asked, not quite able to hear him over the cacophonous din.

“My competition,” he spoke a little louder, “Which one is he?”

“Ah.“ She _knew_ Thora had said something to him… meddling cunt. “He’s the really big one over there.” She pointed across the room to where Bjorn was standing. He was obviously a few inches taller than Cullen, though their physiques were similar. Aside from that though Bjorn was quite different, with his long dark hair and ethereally black eyes.

“Were the two of you… close?” Cullen delicately probed as more drinks were served.

“Not like _that._ ” It didn’t take a genius to know he was referring to sex. “We were young, it was… a more innocent time.”

“Well.” Cullen looked his so-called competition up and down, wrapping a possessive arm around Olivia’s shoulders. “He can’t have you.”

“Is that right?” She smirked, slowly moving her hand to give his upper thigh the gentlest of teasing touches.

She spent the rest of the feast fused to Cullen’s side, whispering lewd things in his ear as he attempted to converse with her family. She found herself laughing, easily and often despite the growing weight on her shoulders. All of her responsibilities would be waiting for her tomorrow, but she at least had this night to feel normal.

When the feast was finally over and the children had been sent to bed, the hall was quickly transformed into a sweltering pit of writhing bodies. Olivia watched on in wonder, swaying in her seat to the beat of the drums. As a child, she’d only ever seen such delights through a hole in the wall after sneaking out of bed with her cousins. And there the fascination had begun.

She tried in vain to protest when Thora took her by the hand and started dragging her towards the sea of flailing limbs, giving a shrug of an apology to Cullen as he was left alone with the father of the bride. She wasn’t nearly drunk enough for this, but with everyone else jumping around without a care in the world she found it was actually rather easy to immerse herself. 

Fun as it was to dance, she realised this was more than that. The women were displaying, waiting for a potential mate to prove themselves worthy of their affections. She just hoped that nobody would see her presence as an invitation. She wasn't an easy target, not by a long shot, but she did hope Cullen would swoop in and save her if need be.

* * *

Was she trying to make him hard? What with the hypnotic sway of her hips and the slight bounce of her breasts. And it seemed he wasn't the only one paying special attention to her. Cullen had been watching her dance for what seemed like an eternity, openly snarling each time anyone dared touch her. She'd handled herself well enough so far, most advances having been easily parried with a simple ‘no thank you’. But the latest fool wasn't taking no for an answer.

He put his weight on one foot ready to stand, but Olivia turned to face said man and thumped him square in the jaw, with so much force he actually fell on his arse. So he sat back down with a proud smirk and continued to sip his drink.

He'd been on the lookout for Olivia's childhood sweetheart since she'd left his side. A _burly mountain man,_ as Thora had described him, and she wasn’t wrong. Cullen knew he wasn’t small by anyone’s standards, but compared to this _Bjorn_ he couldn't help feeling just a little bit inadequate.

Her cousin was right about another thing, too. There was no way Olivia would be able to fend him off if he was prepared to go to extreme lengths to _claim_ her. Cullen wasn't worried about losing her, but rather of losing her uncle's respect in allowing another man to carry her off.

He was surprised this _Bjorn_ didn't go immediately to her, content to linger on the outskirts of the celebration as he himself had resigned to do. No doubt waiting for his moment to pounce.

“Go get her.” Olivia's uncle elbowed him enthusiastically, spilling most of his drink in the process.

“I'm not sure I -” He trailed off as Bjorn left his seat and began making his way towards the flame-haired woman in question.

He tossed back the last of his fermented rams milk, an acquired taste to be sure and the very likely culprit of his suspiciously supercharged libido then made his way through the mass of sweaty bodies towards her.

In a moment of madness, Cullen tapped _the mountain_ on the shoulder then caught him with a surprise left hook. Bjorn may have had the size advantage but Cullen knew his own strengths, and how to use them. A fact demonstrated perfectly by the now unconscious giant at his feet. It may have been a cowardly tactic, but he knew nothing of the man and wasn't prepared to risk losing a fistfight.

Cullen flexed the pain from his fist as he lifted his intense gaze to a very startled Inquisitor, staring wordlessly back at him in disbelief. _In for a copper,_ he thought to himself, quickly closing the short distance between them and pulling her possessively to him.

“You're not jealous are you, Commander?” He could feel her entire body trembling against him - with what he was fairly confident was acute arousal.

“I couldn't give a fuck.” He snarled. “I just came over here to ask you to stop dancing like that or I'm going to cum in my pants.” He grasped her backside to press their groins more firmly together, only too eager to demonstrate his point.

She bit her lip and was about to speak, but his jealousy had indeed reached its limits. He felt it prudent to remind her that choosing to be with him was most definitely the right choice. And, knowing it would score him some points, he decided to fully immerse himself in the role of Avvar barbarian.

Completely ignoring Olivia's half-hearted attempts at resistance, he slung her over his shoulder and made for the exit. He was a little surprised that nobody seemed even slightly offended by what he’d done to one of their own. Clearly this sort of thing was to be expected.

He held his head high, strode out of the feast hall and hauled her up the hill to their cabin. The walk and fresh air did little towards curbing his desires. In fact, he'd say he was even more desperate to have her now than he had been before. Damn fermented rams milk.

“I thought you were supposed to put up a fight?” He goaded, kicking the door closed behind him before dropping her unceremoniously on the bed.

He watched her painted breasts rise and fall with each excited breath as the hazel in her eyes was swallowed up completely by her enlarged pupils, leaving just a thin ring of vibrant green. He pressed his pelvis lustfully into the cradle of her thighs, letting up just enough to free himself, far too aroused to even consider any kind of foreplay.

“Wait!” She protested, just as he brushed the very tip of himself along her slit. “We're supposed to bathe first.”

The veins in his neck bulged with the torturous restraint it took to withdraw from her. She chuckled as he lowered his forehead to hers, unable to even look at her for fear of losing what little control remained.

He growled as he rolled off the bed, planting his feet firmly on the ground. “Where exactly are we supposed to bathe?” he asked, a little impatiently as he noted the distinct lack of a tub in their room.

She scooted closer on her knees, pressing her breasts to his back as she wrapped her arms around his neck. “The river,” she whispered sensually in his ear, ”just down the hill.” 

He stood with her still clinging to him and held her legs around his waist, striding out of the cabin and down the hill so quickly it was a wonder he didn’t trip and fall.

It was pitched black outside, save for the faint glow of candlelight lining a path down to the water’s edge and the mist of fireflies overhead. There were at least three other couples already submerged, but that didn’t seem to deter Olivia from jumping off his back and peeling off her scant loincloth as she waded in.

“Get over here!” she called out to him, dunking herself completely underwater to wash the paint from her face.

With one last look at the other couples further downstream, he took a breath for courage then shed his own clothes and quickly joined her in the frigid water. His teeth chattered with the sudden drop in temperature, though it did lessen the ache in his throbbing cock somewhat.

The river was fairly shallow, so much so that he was able to kneel on the bottom. He lay flat to moisten the paint on his body before returning to a kneeling position, cupping the water in his hands to wash his face clean.

She was right in front of him when he opened his eyes, only faint smudges of paint left on her beautifully clear skin. He reached for her as she wrapped her limbs around him, clinging to him as they fervidly devoured each other.

Breaking for air she lay back, legs still wrapped around his waist, floating on the surface like some moonlit goddess. He swirled his fingertips up the length of her body, from her taut naval through the valley of her breasts and up to the hollow of her throat, grasping the back of her neck to pull her upright and kiss her breathless once more.

He groaned as her fingers scraped along his scalp, abandoning her lips to kiss a path down her throat to her chest and sucking on her nipples until she mewled.

“Patience.” She chuckled at his eagerness, disentangling herself from his embrace to finish cleaning up.

He stared unashamedly at her naked form, hypnotised by the rivulets of water running down her chest and beading off her stiffened nipples. He unconsciously licked his lips, salivating at the movement of her breasts as she lifted her arms to ring out her hair.

“Are you going to clean yourself or just sit there staring?” she sassed.

Desperate to be inside of her as soon as humanly possible he eagerly complied, furiously scrubbing the rest of the paint from his body. Once satisfied with his cleanliness he pulled her to him and, brushing his lips against hers, asked, “can we go fuck now?”

“Mmhmm,” she murmured, gently nibbling on his lower lip.

She squealed when he lifted them both out of the water and began wading as fast as he could back to the shore, uncaring of anyone who might see them both dripping wet and naked as he near enough sprinted back to their cabin. Back inside, he practically dropped her on the bed and returned to his previous place between her legs.

“What now?” he asked, trailing his lips down her neck as he kneaded her breast.

“Well, I'm given to understand these things usually involve a lot of fellating and fucking like animals.”

He growled at the image, and in a flash was back on his feet and re-manoeuvering her on the bed so that her head dangled precariously off the edge. She wet her lips, dutifully opening her mouth to welcome the urgent press of his needy cock. 

It always amazed him how much she could take without gagging. From this angle, he could even see the bulge of his cock in her throat when he buried himself deep. “How are you able to do that?” He marvelled, sliding almost all the way out to give her a brief reprieve.

He watched with rapt attention as her slender fingers toyed with her nipples, eventually swatting her hands away to do it himself. He teased her nipples to hardness as he began to slowly fuck her face, his rhythm faltering slightly when she reached backwards to massage his sac. 

Abandoning a nipple he slid his palm down her smooth stomach, reaching for the tiny bundle of nerves that made her toes curl. She moaned around him, wedged deep in her throat as he slid two fingers into her soaking wet heat. 

She ran her hands up the backs of his thighs to squeeze his arse, before dragging a cheeky finger down his cleft. He withdrew from her in a panic, assuming she was about to make the same grave mistake he once had. But when he looked down at her, face wet with saliva, she was laughing at him.

“I was finding it hard to breathe,” she said, rolling on to her front to rest her chin in her hands, aiming for demure but achieving sinful seductress.

“You, Inquisitor, are a very naughty girl.”

“Perhaps we should move on to the _fucking like animals_ part of the evening?” she sultrily suggested.

She watched him from the corner of her eye as he circled her, slowly prostrating her top half and stretching out like a cat. Her spine had the most delicious curve when she presented herself to him this way, not to mention the exquisite divinity of her arse. The bed was low enough that kneeling on the floor brought him eye level with her core, and he wasted no time burying his face in her cunt. 

He slurped and sucked from clit to arsehole and back again. Over and over until she trembled with need, a copious mixture of arousal and saliva coating his chin and dripping down her thighs as she moaned like a high-class whore.

When the frenulum of his tongue began to ache, he gave her clit one last suck and released her with a wet _pop_. He knelt on the bed between her spread legs and kissed a meandering path up the length of her spine before sinking his teeth into the soft flesh where neck met shoulder.

“Stop being a fucking tease, Rutherford.” She growled into the pillow, impossibly arching her spine even further to press her arse more firmly against his groin.

He swept her hair from her face and lowered his lips to her ear. “As you wish,” he whispered, grasping his achingly hard cock and impaling her in one smooth stroke. Grabbing a handful of her fleshy rear he slowly guided her movements, completely enthralled by the heavenly sight of her walls gripping him in a desperate bid to prevent him from leaving her embrace.

He planted one foot on the bed to better control his movements, gripping her petite waist as he began hammering his pelvis against her rear, repetitively gifting her his devoted cock in exchange for those erotic little mewls. She keened and whimpered throughout his punishing onslaught, and when she was almost sobbing from the pleasurable pain he snaked an arm around her torso to pull her upright. 

Back to chest, he swept his palms all over her body, kissing her neck as he relaxed the pace of his thrusts, allowing her just a moment to catch her breath. He lowered his left hand to their joining, rubbing firm circles around her clit as he pinched her nipple with his free hand.

She reached upwards, holding on to the back of his neck in a desperate bid to keep herself upright and he moaned when he felt her clench around him, both of them so very close to a glorious finish. But he wasn't ready for it to end just yet.

“You're going to ride me now,” he commanded, smirking at the little whine of frustration she let slip.

With a dizzying speed, he found himself on his back and straddled. It wasn't entirely clear who was responsible for the re-manoeuver, but the end result was the same.

She teasingly slid along the underside of his length as he greedily pawed at her breasts. It was an impossible decision trying to choose between feeling the weight of them in his palms or watching them bounce as she rode him. In the end, he decided to do both; palming just one breast and leaving the other exposed to his gaze.

She rode him like a demon of desire, her body once dripping with water now slick with sweat. He ground his teeth together as he attempted to withhold his release, almost growling with the agonizing effort it took, but when her movements began to slow he took it as his cue and finally let himself go. 

He barely had to put in any effort, just the sounds of her breathless mewls and the look of rapturous bliss on her face was enough. And with just two more thrusts of his own, he emptied what felt like a gallon of spend into her pulsing cunt, feeling it almost immediately start to gush out of her.

She fell forwards, completely exhausted, sliding off his chest to nuzzle into his side.

“That was...” She exhaled a slow breath.

“I know,” he readily agreed, not needing to hear her vocalise her current level of fulfilment.

They lay in comfortable silence until their panting breaths quieted and they were able to think coherently again. Olivia propped herself up on one elbow to look down at him, but before she could speak the not so distant sounds of copulating couples reached their ears.

She pressed her lips together to suppress a giggle. “Can you imagine how titillating it must be for the bride and groom, not only knowing all of your guests are at it like nugs but actually being able to hear them?”

Cullen licked his lips. “The only titillation I need is buried deep inside that tight little cunt of yours.”

She pressed a dramatic hand to her chest in jest. “You say the sweetest things.”

Maker, did he love this woman. He’d quite happily stare at her all night if she’d let him… and if it didn’t actually sound quite so lecherous. And yet despite how content he felt, he just couldn’t get a certain question out of his head.

“What’s going on in there?” she asked, tapping his forehead. She was far more perceptive than even he gave her credit for.

He moved to mimic her pose, tracing the contours of her hip and waist with his fingertips. “If you came here alone - if you and I weren’t involved - would you be lying here with _him_ right now?”

She bit her lip, giving his question some honest thought before truthfully responding, “if there was nothing between you and me? Yeah, I probably would be.” He couldn’t, in all honesty, say he didn’t appreciate her candour, though would have happily accepted the reassurance of a little white lie.

But then she went and said something even better. 

“And that would have been the extent of it. Because, as you well know, it takes something extraordinary to truly occupy my attention.”

_She thought what they had was extraordinary?_ Of course, he was inclined to agree... but to hear her actually say it. He hadn’t thought her capable. 

She grimaced. “You’re never going to let me forget I said that, are you?”

“You think I don’t know what I can and can’t get away with by now?” He chuckled. “I’ll not breathe a word of this to you or anyone else.”

And with that, he finally pressed his lips to hers, slowly kissing her for several long minutes before he caved and allowed the word “extraordinary” to slip free.

“Oh, fuck off,” she humorously chided, shoving his chest until he rolled on to his back, “I’m riding your face for that.”

“Oh please no anything but that,” he sarcastically quipped, unable to contain his joyous laughter as he helped to hoist her into position.

Gazing out of the window at the star-filled sky, stroking his fingers through Olivia’s blood-red tresses as she dozed on his chest, sated beyond belief after literally hours of quality lovemaking, he realised this was the happiest he’d been in a very long time. He would do almost anything for this woman, and even though she wasn’t ready to admit it, he was absolutely certain she felt the same way.


End file.
